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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29525220">To Dungeons Deep (And Caverns Old)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingUndertheMountain/pseuds/KingUndertheMountain'>KingUndertheMountain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Ella Enchanted Fusion, Bilbo Baggins Has the Patience of a Saint, Bilbo Baggins is Ella of Frell, Bilbo blames Gandalf for everything, Bilbo is So Done, Bofur is a Sweetheart, F/M, Fíli and Kíli Are Little Shits, Gandalf Is a Little Shit, Gandalf Meddles, Gandalf is a Troll, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poor Elrond, Sassy Bilbo Baggins, Sort Of, Thorin Has No Sense Of Direction, Thorin Is an Idiot, every other season, good lord thorin, no beta we die like zane, someone help bilbo baggins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:21:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29525220</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingUndertheMountain/pseuds/KingUndertheMountain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins was not your average hobbit. Of course, he had the wonderfully groomed and well-taken-care-of hairy feet like every other one of his race, yes, but he was not like other hobbits. He was cursed. Or, as the witch who gave him the enchantment put it, was “gifted”. She had given him the “gift” of obedience – whenever there was a direct command given to him, for example “cook a large meal” or “take a walk”, he could not disobey. Not without a lot of pain and eventual submission.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In Which a Disturber of the Peace Does What He Does Best</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey, everyone! Thank you for checking out my story. This is my first published fanfic, so please let me know how I do! </p><p>This is an Ella Enchanted AU, but you don't technically have to have seen the movie to read it. In case you haven't seen it or read the book, here are some tips for how Bilbo's curse works:<br/>-	He HAS to obey every direct order given directly to him.<br/>-	If the orders are for someone else, he feels a faint tugging to complete them, but can ignore it.<br/>-	He cannot give himself orders to counteract those of others. (He cannot give himself orders at all. I mean, he can, but his body doesn’t obey them the same way it does with others’ orders.)<br/>-	He will be in physical pain if he disobeys any direct order.<br/>-	It makes him able to understand orders given in any language. (Mostly just what to do, not really the actual meaning.)<br/>-	If somebody orders him to do something outside of his hearing, it’s the same as if the order is for someone else.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bilbo Baggins was not your average hobbit. Of course, he had the wonderfully groomed and well-taken-care-of hairy feet like every other one of his race, yes, but he was not like other hobbits.</p><p>Bilbo Baggins was cursed. Or, as the witch who gave him the enchantment put it, was “gifted”. She had given him the “gift” of obedience – whenever there was a direct command given to him, for example “cook a large meal” or “take a walk”, he could not disobey. Not without a lot of pain and eventual submission.</p><p>That’s why, when Gandalf the Grey showed up one morning as Bilbo was taking a smoke on his porch, the hobbit was instantly wary. Bilbo remembered the old wizard was the one who tempted his mother to go on her first adventure (and many more afterwards), and was well on his merry way to being labelled an official Disturber of the Peace. This wizard, though, was not responsible for Bilbo’s curse. In fact, Gandalf had tried everything in his power to get rid of it, or at least make it less strong, which the later he did manage to do. Before, Bilbo had to obey any order given, but now he only had to obey the ones given directly to him. It was the little things, he supposed. Silently musing to himself, Bilbo squinted up at Gandalf. “Good morning.”</p><p>The wizard’s eyes were filled with mirth. “What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning, or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?”</p><p>Bilbo blanched. “All of them at once, I suppose?” He cleared his throat uncomfortably as Gandalf continued to eye him. “Can I help you?”</p><p>“That remains to be seen,” the wizard muttered under his breath. Raising his voice, he announced, “I am looking for someone to share in an adventure.”</p><p>Bilbo’s eyes widened. “What? No, no—Gandalf, absolutely not.”</p><p>The wizard smiled. “Why not? Your mother always did so love adventures in her day.”</p><p>“I am not my mother!” In an effort to lower his voice, Bilbo hissed, “And you know very well that I can’t go on an-an adventure. Not with my—condition!”</p><p>Gandalf leveled a flat look on the hobbit. “Bilbo Baggins—”</p><p>“No, Gandalf! And that is my final answer. You’d do best to try over the hill or-or across the water.” With that, Bilbo quickly stood up and fled into his house before Gandalf could give him an order otherwise. He locked and bolted his door shut, but paused when he heard a faint scratching noise. Daring to take a peek out of his window, a rather loud squeak escaped the hobbit as Gandalf’s blue eye loomed through the glass. Bilbo quickly scampered into his living room, carefully glancing out of the window in there, only to see Gandalf exiting his fence’s gate. Letting loose a puff of breath that the hobbit didn’t even realize he was holding, Bilbo sank into a chair and put his head in his hands. Whatever was he going to do?</p><p>Shaking himself, he stood up and meandered his way into his study. It didn’t matter now, for Gandalf was some other poor hobbit’s problem.</p><p>:*:*:*:*:*:</p><p>Carefully finishing cooking up his dinner, Bilbo scraped the fish out of the pan and onto his plate. After setting his small table, he set down his food and tucked his napkin into the front of his tunic, preparing to eat.</p><p>Suddenly, his doorbell rang, causing Bilbo to frown. Who would visit him at supper-time? Sighing, he set his utensils down, pulled the napkin from his collar, and went to answer the door. Yanking it open, the hobbit stopped in shock as he stared at the dwarf in front of his door. He was bald, with tattoos covering the top of his head, and carried a large axe on his back. Bilbo swallowed. “Can I . . . help you?”</p><p>The dwarf stared down at him, as if examining an enemy. “Dwalin. At yer service.” He added a little bow at the end. Bilbo belatedly realized that he looked entirely unpresentable, and quickly tied his robe shut with wide eyes. “Um, Bilbo—Baggins . . . at yours.”</p><p>As the dwarf—<em>Dwalin</em>—pushed past him, Bilbo squeaked. “I’m sorry; do we know each other?”</p><p>Dwalin paused long enough to eye him. “No.” Then he was off again, marching down the halls of Bag End like he belonged there. “Which way is it, laddie?”</p><p>Bilbo’s confusion grew. “Is what—down where?”<br/>“Supper. He said there’d be food—and lots of it!”</p><p>“He said,” Bilbo repeated, blanching. “Who said?”<br/>Dwalin ignored him, electing instead to release a cry of triumph when he finally found the kitchen, making Bilbo jump. By the time Bilbo entered the kitchen, Dwalin was already half-done eating the hobbit’s dinner—and had found the scones he was saving for later. But before he could reprimand the dwarf—or at least try to—the doorbell rang again, and Bilbo’s head snapped towards where the sound came from. Dwalin snorted. “That’ll be the door.”</p><p>Bilbo’s feet found him walking back to the front of his house, and he opened his round door to find another dwarf standing outside, only this one had completely white hair and split beard, though he still shared a large amount of resemblance to the first dwarf. Bilbo swallowed. “Good evening.”</p><p>The dwarf turned to face him with a kind smile. “Yes, it is, isn’t it? Though, I think it might rain later.” He bowed, like Dwalin had. “Balin, at yer service.”</p><p>He stepped inside, and Bilbo automatically moved to give Balin space. The elderly dwarf took off his coat and handed it to Bilbo. “Am I late?”</p><p>Bilbo’s brows furrowed. “Late for . . . what?”</p><p>By this point, Dwalin had stepped out of the kitchen to see what all of the commotion was about. When Balin saw the other dwarf, his eyes lit up, making the old dwarf look years younger. “Ooh! Ah-hah! Evening, brother!”</p><p>Well, that would explain why they looked alike. Dwalin broke into the first grin Bilbo had seen from the stern dwarf. “By my beard! You’re shorter and wider than the last time we met!”</p><p>Both brothers placed their hands on the other’s shoulders lovingly—and promptly smashed their foreheads together. Bilbo winced, letting out a soft gasp of sympathy. The two dwarves released their holds on the other, each picking up a drying plate and meandering their way over to the first of Bilbo’s four pantries. The hobbit tentatively followed them, almost fainting when he saw them each take a bottle of his finest wine and drink half of it in one go, like it was water, before proceeding to attack his pantry with a particularly vicious vigor. Bilbo was just on the verge of tearing his curly locks out when the doorbell rang for the third time that night.</p><p>Desperately trying to shove his un-hobbit-like anger into a tiny box, he marched over to his door and threw it open to see two more dwarves—a smug blonde and a slightly-taller brunette, obviously brothers, given that they had the same nose and facial structure. The blonde inclined his head. “Fíli—”</p><p>“—and Kíli,” the brunette finished, lifting his head high. Together, they performed a synchronized bow that had Bilbo’s eyebrows raising, chorusing, “At your service!”</p><p>When they stood up straight again, the brunette—Kíli—’s face broke into a wide, happy smile. “You must be Mister Boggins!”</p><p>Bilbo didn’t even get a chance to correct the young dwarf that it was <em>Baggins</em> before they, like Dwalin, were pushing their way into his smial. Fíli thrust what seemed like fifty swords at Bilbo, and the hobbit had to juggle to keep them from clattering to the floor. “Careful with these,” the dwarf winked. “Just had them sharpened.”</p><p>Bilbo automatically shifted the weapons in his hands into one that would help him hold all of them carefully, as ordered. Thankfully, he managed not to drop any in the process, because that would’ve caused him a world of pain—literally. As he was juggling the swords, Bilbo peered at Kíli, who was wandering around his foyer. Appreciatively, the dwarf said, “It’s nice, this place. You do it yourself?”</p><p>It would have been a sweet comment, had it not been immediately followed up by Kíli wiping off his boots on his mother’s glory box, one of the few things Bilbo had left from Belladonna Baggins-née-Took. Objecting loudly to the treatment of the chest, Bilbo gently placed the fifty swords on the bench (thank Yavanna for loopholes) and shoved the dwarves towards his kitchen, crying out in dismay when he saw how raided his first pantry was. As Fíli and Kíli joined Dwalin and Balin in his pillaged pantry, Bilbo had to actively stop himself from reaching up and gripping his curls until his knuckles turned white.</p><p>He was just on the verge of screaming at the top of his lungs until his voice wore out when there was another pounding on the door. By this time, Bilbo had had enough. He marched angrily to the door, all but shouting, “Oh, no! No, no. There’s nobody home! Go away, and bother somebody else! There are far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is. If—If this is some blockhead’s idea of a joke,” He threw in a laugh that sounded only slightly hysterical, “then I can only say, it is in very poor taste!”</p><p>As he spoke the last word, the hobbit yanked the door open—and jumped back in surprise as at least ten dwarves collapsed on his doormat. Bilbo looked at the last figure still standing, and sighed in annoyance when he saw the sheepish figure of a certain wizard. <em>“Gandalf.”</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. In Which Bilbo Almost Has Multiple Heart Attacks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heh, sorry, guys. My updating schedule is rather . . . weird, to say the least. I'll probably only update whenever I finish a chapter, meaning that it could be just whenever. This is not abandoned, even if I haven't updated in a month.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Put that back.”</p><p>“No, put that back.”</p><p>“Excuse me, not my wine, please!”</p><p>“Not the jam!”</p><p>“Put that back!”</p><p>Bilbo was losing his Valar-damned mind. Everywhere he turned, there was a dwarf raiding his pantry. His only saving grace was that they hadn’t found the other three yet. Gandalf was of no help, trying to drain his wine cellar instead of his pantry, and Bilbo was losing his already-thin patience with the wizard. He slammed into an elderly dwarf trying to remove a very fragile chair <em>(Nori? Óin? Bombur? Bilbo couldn’t tell anymore)</em> and gently but firmly removed the chair, scolding the dwarf about trying to take the chair. (If the gestures the dwarf was making were any clues to go by, Bilbo was not being understood.)</p><p>One of the dwarves tried to use his doilies to wash the dishes, and Fíli and Kíli were trying to open the third keg of Bilbo’s ale while Dwalin was using one of his wooden spoons as a carving block. The hobbit was just about to declare surrender and retreat to his study when Gandalf waltzed up, looking half drunk. (Though how he managed to do so on Bilbo’s tiny glasses, the hobbit had no idea.) The wizard gazed fondly at the steaming hobbit. “My dear, Bilbo, what on Arda is the matter?”</p><p>“What’s the matter? I’m surrounded by dwarves, that’s what.” Bilbo proceeded to drag Gandalf into his hallway. “What are they doing here?”</p><p>Gandalf proceeded to ignore his question. “Well, they’re quite the merry gathering, once you get used to them.”</p><p>“I don’t want to get used to them!” Bilbo’s ire with the wizard was growing steadily with every word. “Look that the state of my kitchen! There’s mud all over my floors! I can’t even fit into my pantry around these blasted dwarves, and they’ve all but destroyed the plumbing in the bathroom! I don’t even know how they managed that! <em>I don’t understand what they’re doing in my house!”</em></p><p>There was a tentative tap on his shoulder. “Excuse me,” came a soft voice. <em>(Ori, maybe?)</em> “I’m sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?”</p><p>Bilbo opened his lips to answer, but Fíli swiped the plate from the other dwarf’s hands. “Here you go, Ori, give it to me.” </p><p>Then to Bilbo’s great horror and utter dismay, he threw it to his brother, who barely managed to catch it before the plate could fly past him. Then Kíli <em>threw it like a freaking frisbee</em> <em>into the kitchen.</em> He could only hope that someone managed to catch it, because the set was one of the last things he had of his mother. Bilbo’s voice took on a slightly hysterical tone as he protested, “That’s my—mother’s West Farthing pottery; <em>it’s over a hundred years old!”</em></p><p>Instead of listening to him, Kíli’s face broke out into a large grin as he caught and threw three more plates into the kitchen. Bilbo’s nerves were elevated further by a couple of dwarves banging and scrapping his utensils together. His patience finally shattered, and he snapped, “Can you not do that?! You’ll blunt them!”</p><p>Instead of stopping, the dwarf with the hat <em>(Bofur, if memory served—not that Bilbo was actively trying to remember)</em> grinned, eyes sparkling. “Ooh, did you hear that, lads? He says we’ll blunt the knives.”</p><p>The banging took on a slight musical rhythm, and Kíli began singing, “Blunt the knives, bend the forks—”</p><p>“Smash the bottles and burn the corks,” Fíli picked up the lyrics before the rest of the dwarves joined in. “Chip the glasses and crack the plates—that’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!”</p><p>Bilbo was having a mental breakdown with all the orders being flung around. Thank Yavanna that none of them were directed at him, so he could ignore them. The dwarves sung on, unaware. “Cut the cloth, tread on fat! Leave the bones on the bedroom mat! Pour the milk on the pantry floor, splash the wine on every door!</p><p>“Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl, pound them up with a thumping pole! When you're finished, if they are whole, send them down the hall to roll!” There was a musical interlude, and Bilbo silently marveled at Bofur’s flute skills. The dwarves finished their song with a merry, “That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!”</p><p>Bilbo shoved his way through the crowd of dwarves, and stopped in front of his sink, surprised to see all of the dished stacked expertly on the island. When he caught Gandalf’s eyes, the old wizard was chuckling, eyes knowing.</p><p>All laughter died out, though, when three loud thunks landed on Bilbo’s poor door. Gandalf’s eyes were solemn as he announced, “He’s here.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whew! That was tedious. Sorry it's so short, please forgive.<br/>If anyone knows how to italicize on AO3, please, please let me know. Parts of this chapter would make more sense if they were italicized. <br/>@leavemyelevator-alone on tumblr</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for the next part, and please give feedback! <br/>If you want to chat, I'm @leavemyelevator-alone on tumblr!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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